The Sire of My Sire
by LeptonMadness
Summary: The year is 1881. The love triangle of Darla, Angelus, and Drusilla is further complicated when Drusilla's newly sired vampire, Spike, enters the picture. Spike, trying to prove himself to his more experienced coven, also finds himself the object of their attraction. AN: Yes, this is Spike/Angel, but more than that, it's everyone/everyone. In my world, Vamps are just like that.


**Chapter 1**

Night wasn't usually this warm. Even late in July, as it was, the temperature tended to drop at sunset, and by the time the sun had dipped low enough to accommodate the vamps, the night breeze would blow away the hot day air. But not tonight. The heat weighed down on them like a thick blanket. Angelus and Spike were standing on a small hill overlooking the railway, occasionally glancing up to see the few stars that dotted the orange sky.

"Christ, Angelus, why do we have to be up so bloody early?" Spike asked, rubbing his temples. "You know how hung over I am. This had better be really bloody"

"Shhh." Angelus put his finger up to his lips and smiled. "Just wait. The train'll be coming in a moment. Listen."

Spike looked into the distance and sighed. Angelus could be a proper prick when he wanted to be. Spike never cared when it was directed at some poor human, but Angelus's cruelty was by no means particular. A few months ago Spike had walked in on him and Drusilla, about to ask Angelus when they planned to hunt. The door to their room was wide open and Spike couldn't help but to see everything as he stood in the doorway. Angelus's perfectly toned body, his legs bare and his back shining with sweat; Drusilla pressed against the wood of the foot of the bed. Spike watched as Drusilla squirmed and gyrated and gasped. How Angelus would torture her! He would grab a cross by its chain and swing against her until she burnt, or let holy water drip on her breasts one drop at a time. And Drusilla loved to be tortured. Her eyes glistened as she shook. Whenever Angelus pulled away, she grabbed him and pulled him back. She framed his head in her hands and gazed into them until he was hypnotized. Then she looked over him, straight at Spike and smiled. She brought one hand down below where Spike could see and gazed into his eyes.

Or when the cruelty was pointed at Spike, as it often was, it took the form of a calculated and drawn-out scenario. Like right now. Last night, after they'd killed a bartender, he had challenged Spike to a drinking competition, taking a few bottles of white wine off the shelf for himself, and a few bottles of red for Spike. It seemed fair to him at the time, but now, with the pounding headache and dry mouth, he knew that Angelus enjoyed the flavour of his suffering more than any flavour wine.

Angel looked out straight into the horizon as the shrill hooting of a train got louder and louder and the sobbing screams of a small child became just faintly audible. "I met the most wonderful girl the other night on the Canal latéral à la Garonne. Oh, she was just the cutest. You would've liked her, Willie."

Spike glared. "It's Spike now. I told you, don't fuckin' call me that."

"Eldest sister." Angelus continued, without paying any attention to him. "She must have been . . . sixteen? Seventeen, maybe. Her father's a drunk, and her mother's long dead so she's got to take care of her two younger brothers. She feel _very_ attached to them. Her youngest brother, it turns out, is deathly afraid of trains . . ." Angelus let out a chuckle. "So I told her - just wait Spike, you'll love this - I told this girl to meet me right here. And as long as the train's on schedule, she'll arrive just in time to see her little darling boy crushed beneath its wheels! Come on boyo, you've gotta appreciate the sheer art. Oh, and this is just the first step, too. When I'm done with her, mon petite amie, elle va vouloir mourir!"

"English?"

"Spike, boyo, when in Rome . . ."

"Fuck this. Why should we diddle away here in France when there's real chaos to be found. China, I'm telling you. That's where the slayer is. I don't understand why you're such a pussy about going somewhere cool."

"We're on our way to America. That's where the real blood is. No one will notice if we go there, find a nice black village suck 'em dry. Those humans, they're lynching each other right and left."

"Look, I'm fed up with your shit. We can go to America any time, Angelus. China, friend! China is-"

"Shh... It's happening!"

The last thing that Rene ever saw was the train rushing down the plain, crossing the horizon, filling his vision, and his sister running to stop it. He smiled. She was here to save him from this evil man, and everything would be okay.

It was fast; the train running through him, the girl stopping suddenly, a moment when you could hear nothing but the train.

Spike looked over at Angelus. He had his eyes closed and was waving his hands in the air like a conductor. He lowered his left hand and struck the air with his right and the girl began to wail. The train finally passed and Spike saw her. So young, but no longer innocent, on her knees weeping; a streak of her own brother's blood painting her body like the sunset painted the sky. It was slow; the wind running through her hair and dress, the girl standing suddenly, the moment when you could hear nothing but the wind.

Angelus looked over at Spike. "It was perfect." He laughed. "It was absolutely perfect."

"Beautiful," Spike agreed, not looking away from him. "You know, Angelus, this France place is starting to grow on me. I know. I mean, at first I was-"

"I meant, this whole thing. You. Me."" Angelus said, his eyes darting between Spike's eyes and his mouth. "Spike . . . I . . ."

Spike leaned in. "What is it?" He asked.

"I don't know." Angelus answered, as he leaned in and kissed him.


End file.
